


New Beginnings

by LadyStoic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood, Colemance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Violence, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:29:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyStoic/pseuds/LadyStoic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corypheus is dead and the Inquisition has a new mission to rebuild what was destroyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen struggles with night terrors and anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The first chapter is a bit short but I'm very happy with how it turned out; I didn't want to ruin it with overkill.

The smell of death and decay permeates throughout like a sickness; suffocating on curdled blood clutching a slit throat his haunted ice blue eyes widen in betrayal. She tries to reach for him, a touch, a last goodbye but a hand torn and weak with flesh barely clinging to the bone misses its target and his body is carelessly thrown to the side by glowing red claws.

A deep baritone slices the stale air and she flinches at its harshness.

“You have failed them. There is nothing left. Bow to me or be cut down like all the other useless creatures you foolishly surround yourself with.” Cold red eyes glare past an intelligent face.

Even hunched-over he stands eleven feet tall with red lyrium claws click-clacking together impatiently. Left without an answer for a breath too long those sharp pinching claws encompass a too-small wrist; slippery feet lose purchase on a crimson soaked ground as she’s lifted bodily like a rag doll into the putrid air. No kicking and struggling this time. She merely hangs limp utterly shattered inside.

“Cole…” comes out on a choked sob.

Corypheus is talking again but there’s no reason to listen when her heart lies motionless on the cold hard ground. Pain explodes star-like behind her closed eyes when the snapping claws tighten their grip. She grits her teeth against the sensation. Physical pain is nothing. She would endure a thousand years of pain if it would bring him back _but nothing will ever bring him back._

She is falling, falling, falling until the soft thud of boots meeting the ground crushes the silence. Crawling to his broken body she cradles a swollen bruised head between shredded hands. Whispered through bloody lips his name once again escapes on a sob and she moves the slick blond bangs away from his once brilliant soul-piercing blue eyes. Like a mantra, a lifeline, a prayer she screams his name to the stars. All their efforts, the months of planning, organizing, building an army only for everyone to be cut down with a single swipe of a dragon’s claw.

Everything is lost.

She is left crumpled, broken, and forever alone. _Alone._

Life was once a two piece puzzle but now those two pieces are shattering into a million pieces where most of them have caught fire. _No hope._

A red lyrium claw comes down to steal him away and she screams and thrashes, beating bloodied hands against it. She is as powerless as a sparrow and can only watch in horror as his battered body is dragged away.

“COLE! No no no no no.”

\----

He had fallen asleep at the desk and a scream, unfiltered and raw, now jars him from a fitful slumber and he stands with such force that the chair is knocked backwards

Thrashing and sweaty her thin legs are tangled in the blankets and she is crying his name. For a moment he stills as the abject horror and hopelessness in her voice freezes him in place. It feels like someone has a fiery grip on his heart and is squeezing too tight.

Eventually it passes and he briskly makes his way to the bed. At the feel of cool warm hands on her face the screams turn to whimpers as he soothes her awake.

Her eyelids flutter and when those wide brilliant green eyes open he crushes her to his chest and pets her hair.

She is sobbing now. Sobbing and shaking and squeezing and practically clawing the flesh on his arm deathly afraid of letting him go. He cradles her in his lap and rocks soothingly back and forth until her breathing regulates and the sobs turn to fluttery little hiccups. Her fever-like warmth is quickly dissipating and she shivers. He leans back against the headboard still cradling her in his arms and covers them both with the silk blankets.

From her thoughts he knows what it is that frightened her so; it is the fourth night terror this week but the first in which his is the name on her lips. Neither of them has gotten much sleep since Corypheus’ defeat. The hold, awash with crooning dignitaries and pompous nobles, has only added to the Inquisitor’s anxiety.

He feels her slowly fading but knows she must get it out in order to have a chance of sleeping soundly.

“Was it Corypheus?” Yes or no questions are best.

“Yes.” She sighs.

“Was I there?” Another soft spoken question.

This time she hesitates, biting her lip. “Yes…” it comes out as a choked whisper and the arms around his middle squeeze tighter.

He squeezes tighter in return.

“Please don’t ever leave.” She pleas, “I don’t think I.. I’d…”

He thumbs the faint scar above her lip and quiets her with a kiss.

“I will be wherever you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ladystoic)  
> As always comments/kudos/critiques/ideas are appreciated.


	2. Dance With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst

“I don’t understand why Josephine feels this is necessary.” Gwen pouted. “Haven’t we tolerated their presence here long enough? We don't need any more stuffy nobles.”

Cole watched deft fingers twine thin ribbons of silk fabric around a foot. They danced together up and up until they were tied snugly around her calves; far more complicated than the brown shoes he slipped on every morning.

“I mean this is ridiculous, a _party_?!” she scoffed lightly and started on the other foot. “A party for _what_?! There’s barely anyone here.” Her voice trembled slightly at the reminder.

Broken out of a stupor he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Shining emerald eyes caught him by surprise and she stood abruptly to shudder in his arms.

It was killing him. This pain of hers had become a familiar burden, staining, marring, but forever permeating; nothing seemed to help. Corypheus was no longer a threat but his image haunted her dreams and waking hours.

He knew she felt abandoned, lost, shattered. With no plan for after and no family to return to the Inquisitor wandered around Skyhold wearing a brave face. She played the part of the strong, ruthless, sarcastic woman that closed the breach and ‘saved the world’ but he knew that deep down it tore her apart. She felt she had no purpose, a tool to be used and discarded, her destiny a thin thread to be cut as soon as Corypheus’ corpse hit the ground.

The night terrors were the worst. Red lyrium claws click-clacked in the dark, a brilliant glow ever-consuming, always thirsty for the blood of loved ones, never satisfied. Dorian, Solas, Cassandra, a wide brimmed hat, mangled bodies dragged away by crystal-encrusted hands. Bathed in sickly green light an empty throne wept crimson, sluggish and oozing, guilt from judgments past forever present.

Fitfully she’d thrash and whimper names under forced breath. Finally awake she would fumble in the darkness and cling to him, crying out in despair whenever sweaty palms found the bed empty. He was the last solid thing that tethered her to the ground.

“I still have you, right?” She mimicked his earlier words.

Words would never be enough but he repeated them anyway because it eased the small aches, the ones that crawled over her skin like a desperate itch, wiggling, chafing; the ones that threatened to break the skin if left unfettered. He said them for her and sometimes he said them to ease his own pain. Emotional, mental, physical pain; it was the new ‘normal’.

He buried his nose behind her ear to nuzzle the thin skin and breathe in her scent. Sweet nothings, a soft whisper meant to soothe and she relaxed against him, melted into his strong arms.

\----

The music was loud and the alcohol riddled minds of the main hall’s occupants… annoyed him.

_That’s the Inquisitor?_

_An elf?!_

The thoughts were bearable for a while but as the night progressed they became increasingly malignant, loud, and _wrong_.

_Hot little thing; you know what they say about elves._

_Bend her over a…_

_Bet she’s had her nasty little way with the Commander… Giving it like a little…_

He slammed a fist on the nearest table and glared at the man whose thoughts managed to spoil his once pleasant mood. Piercing blue eyes locked the abrasive noble in a stare cold enough to burn; confused the man hastily stood and retreated with a drink in hand.

Cole sighed heavily and looked around; much to Gwendolyn’s delight every companion was able to make it to the party and had planned to stay for the next two months. A wide brimmed hat tipped down to cover a guilty half-smile. Josephine’s mysterious party the Inquisitor had griped about for days? It was secretly his ‘fault’.

“Hey! I’ve missed that over-sized hat of yours.” Varric sidled up and elbowed the taller man playfully.

“Just my hat?” blue eyes crinkled in amusement as they stared down at his most-missed friend.

“Boy, have you changed!” The dwarf mused with a meaty hand to his chin, “Bet you’re even more dangerous with that sense of humor.” A brown eye winked.

The assassin’s smile slowly faded when he looked away.

“What’s wrong big man?” Cole barely caught the new nickname.

“Gwendolyn…” haunted blood shot eyes caught the Inquisitor’s back as she talked animatedly with Cassandra.

“Everything OK between you two?” the older man asked.

He wrung the calloused sweaty hands he used to write letters with. The last week had been difficult and…trying. Whenever Cole left to help others he would be unknowingly called back to soothe the Inquisitor’s many anxiety attacks. Despair wrapped itself around the elf like a great hulking snake as malicious intent dripped from over-sized fangs; it squeezed and crushed with sharp dragon hide scales that nicked the skin to leave open infected wounds.

War table meetings typically ended with the Inquisitor huddled in a fetal position on Solas’ old couch surrounded by the frescos of a seemingly separate life.

“You know you can tell me anything.” Varric seemed genuinely concerned and… scared. The latter emotion surprised Cole.

“Solas, Sera, and Blackwall are gone. Leliana left to be the new Divine. Cassandra went on to rebuild the Seekers. The Iron Bull comes and goes on mercenary business. Vivienne is working to build a new circle. You left on business.” He paused for a breath. “She feels used, worn-out, unnecessary. She would give her life for those that followed but some have left without a word and others leave like there is no reason to stay.” Nervous he plucked at the threaded ends of his hand wrappings and toed at the floor.

“Well, shit.” Varric mumbled under his breath. “I didn’t know she cared for everyone like that.”

“I am the only one she lets in. Only I see the despair and loneliness that eats at her like a sickness.”

He felt a thick hand on his arm and looked down to see Varric’s light brown eyes soften. “Let her know we still care. That she isn’t alone and the fondness she feels for her friends isn’t one-sided. We’ve all missed her dearly as well.”

Cole forced a smile and nodded.

“Cole!” Gwendolyn had snuck up to the pair. “Everyone is going to stay, at least for a little while.” A sheepish smile disturbed the scar that puckered a plump upper lip. It was infectious and both rogues smiled in return.

The dwarf managed to squeeze out a chuckle before being crushed in an embrace. “I’ve missed you all so much!”

A meaty hand rubbed her back reassuringly. “We’ve missed you too.”

She stepped back to take him in, to make sure he was real and actually standing before her.

The music changed to a fast paced jittery vibe and her entire face lit up. Gwen hopped from foot to foot excitedly before a small hand wrapped around his wrist to drag him bodily towards the dance floor.

He chuckled freely, “but I can’t dance.” Her sudden mood change made him giddy, her smiles and giggles infectious and sweet.

She looked back, swept up by the music and surrounded by friends she laughed, “Neither can I!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'snuck' is -apparently- improper English... but 'sneaked' just sounds so... icky xO  
> EDIT 3/28: Proper English be damned I'm switching it back to snuck!
> 
> Where did everyone go? O.o  
> 


	3. All Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins :o

With sore feet and light hearts they made their way to the bedroom where the moonlight bathed the room in a soothing pale glow.

The mattress groaned in protest of the added weight when Cole fell heavily onto it.

Calm cerulean eyes traced the soft illuminated contours of Gwendolyn’s back as she stood by the doors to the balcony. For the first time in a while he could sense no malevolent emotion from the elf; she was relaxed and happy.

Soft crimson tresses rippled when she turned her head and with large emerald orbs she caught him in a staring contest with her rear end. She smiled mischievously then and hooked a thumb under the waistband of her breeches. His attention immediately averted to the offending digit when it teasingly brought her pants down down down to pool around her slim ankles. Icy blues slowly traveled back up to rest on the swell of her round back side.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob thickly before he had a chance to hide it beneath a wide-brimmed hat.

They had coupled a few times since the first but just as before he felt full to bursting with raw nerves and anxiety.

She straightened back up to unbutton her cotton sweater and it too, joined the pile by her feet. It was when lightly muscled legs opened slightly and she bent over to unfasten her silk foot wrappings that he had to look away and take a slow, settling breath. Achingly-thin fabric was all that covered her center and the mere thought of it was driving him mad. Desperately he closed his eyes and choked the blanket between clenched fists in an attempt to fixate on something else.

An embarrassed flush silently crept along his cheekbones when he remembered the last time they were intimate. He had misinterpreted a request which had caused her to laugh at his naivety and foolishness... or so he thought at the time. The night had ended with a humiliated Cole cradling his face in his hands as he apologized profusely. Now he knew she laughed not at his inadequacy or _stupidity_ but at the fact he would do almost anything for her.

Beautiful shifting lights coalesced behind his lids. Cautious and curious he opened his eyes to watch in awe as a kaleidoscope of colors, brilliant green and soft honey brown, twittered and vibrated around Gwendolyn. Always always had he the off-hand ability to hear a person’s song, he was aware that every individual possessed an aura but never actually _saw_ it. It proved equal parts frightening and fascinating and he rubbed his eyes to clear it away when he felt rather than saw a thin shadowed figure approach the bed.

The color and bright light faded when he blinked rapidly and he looked up when warmth touched his knee. Gwendolyn stood before him, thin-fingered hands placed delicately on an exposed hip, naked as a freshly born babe.

He picked at the frayed ends of his hand wrappings and swallowed thickly once more. She giggled at his now-familiar nervous habits and settled on her knees between his legs on the floor.

“What are you–” the rest were lost in an unintelligible moan when she palmed the thick bulge that sat innocently between his thighs. She continued to rub and squeeze his steadily growing erection and his head tilted back to release a messy blond mop of hair.

“You’ve done so much for me this past week.” She cooed while her hands left to caress the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Leaning forward she whispered in his ear, “It’s about time I repay you.”

His entire body jerked and he cried out when she sucked the sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder; a sensation similar to tiny bolts of lightning zipped through his chest and landed squarely in his groin. It was almost embarrassing how good it felt and he recalled a time when his knees almost buckled from the pleasure.

He felt thin fingers tug and unclasp the belts of his new cotton tunic and the sound as it hit the floor reverberated around the quiet room. He pulled the thick fabric over his head and shivered from the draft that slithered from the open window.

Thin-fingered hands pushed and squeezed the contoured muscles of his stomach and he sighed when she left open mouthed kisses across his shoulders and chest. Gwen made her way down his stomach and he shuddered when she licked under the line of his breeches.

“Why must these always be in the way?” She smiled devilishly and with help tugged breeches and undergarments down and off. They both sighed when his erection sprang free of its bindings and she pulled at his knees so that he was closer to the edge of the bed.

A soft hand wrapped itself around his length and the air caught in his throat when she flicked a tongue to lap up a bead of liquid at the tip. His cock disappeared inside her mouth soon after and his breath finally hissed out as she pumped him slowly. It was torturous but magnificent all the same.

Shadowed blue eyes glazed over, unseeing, and he petted the soft downy hair on her head in an attempt to ground himself. Little pinpricks of feeling tingled their way from the bottoms of his feet, past the backs of muscled thighs, and across his lower back with every sensuous pull of him into her mouth.

She slowed her pace considerably and pulled his cock free of her mouth with a pop. He shuddered and bowed forward from the spike of pleasure it brought. Gingerly she stood and he scooted back on the bed to give her room to hover astride him.

He fingered the soft folds of her sex and she moaned when he plunged a digit deep inside. She was already wet and wanting and his cock twitched in anticipation. A second finger joined the first and he wiggled them how she liked it. A sweaty forehead came down to rest on his shoulder and she whispered delicious pleas and promises in his ear.

Unable to wait any longer he grabbed her by the swell of her hips and impatiently brought her down upon his shaft. She stilled, resistance against his questing hands, and in concern looked up. Her face was locked in a grimace and her lithe form shook above him.

“Too fast…” she mumbled, embarrassed.

He apologized profusely and tore his hands away to lean back on sweaty palms in response. The scar above her lip twitched when she smiled and he felt less like a bumbling fool.

When she was finally sheathed to the hilt she began to move at a deliciously slow pace. She moaned openly when he filled her and sighed when the delicious pressure ceased; his breath hissed out shallow and broken each and every time. Her walls surrounded his cock in a blanket of silky warmth that threatened to swallow him whole.

He was certainly on the verge of insanity. He needed more pressure, more friction, faster faster faster. The current pace kept him at a torturous level of pleasure and he needed more lest he combust in a fit of carnality.

A large calloused hand squeezed her thigh lightly and she nodded without opening her eyes. She had a mischievous smirk on her lips; she _knew_ how much this was killing him. _Petulant little she-demon_.

Little pert nipples brushed against his chest when he pulled her down to capture a plump red mouth in a kiss. With a hand firmly behind her neck and one on the swell of her ass he plunged in deeply. He thrust up into her again and again with an increasingly fast pace until the slap of their coupling reverberated around the room. He knew she was close, so close and with a few strong thrusts she came undone; she seemed to draw him in further, deeper, as he felt her walls spasm around him.

Breaths rasped and heavy she came down from her high and kissed him on the nose.

“It’s your turn now.” She smiled lovingly and traced invisible circles around his chest.

“Can we… like last time?” he broke eye contact as embarrassment stained his cheeks red.

“Yes!” She replied with a grin.

\----

Breathless but sated he twirled deft fingers around the wayward strands of long red hair that tickled his chest. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

“Did you know they took bets on how big you are?” She stated with her eyes still closed.

“They?” He had another question but she answered too quickly.

“Iron Bull and Sera… Secretly I think Dorian was in on it as well.” She replied.

“What do you mean by ‘big’?” The other genuine, curious question. Her eyes finally opened.

She giggled at this and replied dramatically, “your penis, of course.”

He stopped playing with her hair and stiffened at the thought.

“They aren’t all the same?”

“Nope. There are many sizes, shapes, colors… well, I’ve only _heard_ as much… from other girls.” she answered sheepishly.

He looked down. As a spirit there were many times when he saw naked human males but his eyes never lingered long enough to discern any significant differences. He assumed all men were equipped with the same amount of flesh and hair. The size, shape, and color of his equipment proved to be a facet of his human life that had never occurred to him before.

Gwendolyn never complained and it appeared to work like it was supposed to… or did it? Would she tell him? He had a terrible feeling she would not and his eyes widened slightly as doubt rattled about his head.

She finally caught his wide-eyed stare and increasingly horrified expression because she lightly pinched his nipple until he squirmed in discomfort.

“Ow…” he offered.

“I love you with everything I am and if you for one crazy second think that the size of the snake in your pants changes anything than you are terribly mistaken.” She finished and pinched again to tear his gaze away from his crotch.

“Besides, Iron Bull won the bet.” She continued with a slight blush.

“He did?”

She dramatized by puffing out her chest and shoulders and deepened her voice in an attempt to better personify the larger man. “Man’s got big feet and hands.”

“Huh.” What did the size of his feet or his hands have anything to do with it?

“Yup. Sera gave Bull the gold but ended up stealing it back from him later that night anyway. Those two are terrible.” She shook her head affectionately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .-.


	4. Scandals?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry :X I hope there are some of you still reading!

He would never get used to how quickly the human mind turned itself around. How easily or how often, or so it seemed, one brought themselves back from the brink of despair; all it took was a word, a touch, a song, a memory, or in Gwendolyn’s case, the renewed company of friends.

===

It felt as though a great hulking weight had lifted from the Inquisitor’s shoulders. The nightmares had lessened in frequency as well as intensity and allowed her room to breathe.

A faint smile disturbed the jagged scar above her lip and she fingered the silken blue petals of crystal grace that grew along Vivienne’s old balcony.

Past the banister Skyhold was awash in a flurry of activity. Josephine, always the epitome of grace and manners, delicately made her way to the main hall; she gesticulated wildly, the hand not holding her ever-present clipboard flying through the air dramatically. Gwen couldn’t hide her snort when the caramel colored woman accidentally bopped the nose of a noble that ventured too close.

The Inquisitor sighed dreamily and sat down on a nearby chaise lounge. Vivienne was unable to stay longer than two days and as a result had given the elf free reign of her old room. Green eyes took in the stylish oval rug and a few tattered books before they closed, successfully reducing the sounds of Skyhold to a pleasant background buzz.

Bliss.

Not a care in the world.

But what was that smell?

Annoyed, she squinted past the weathered brown wood of the balcony.

One of the guardsmen had brought back a few nugs and it appeared as though the poor creatures were set to be roasted for the hold’s next meal.

The smell of the meat as it cooked wafted heady and thick towards her sensitive elven nose.

Saliva quickly filled her mouth and she staggered away from the banister as if struck. It smelled disgusting. With a hand wrapped in the fabric over a churning stomach and one to cover a scarred mouth she gagged.

“Oh no…” She made it to a bucket just in time.

===

‘Ugh…’ Gwen moaned and turned over, confused to find herself unceremoniously draped over a couch, a bucket lying on the floor next to her. ‘Wha..?’

“You look like hell.” A familiar voice trilled.

“Dorian?”

“Who else would it be?” He replied, snarky as always.

She grunted in response.

“I found you passed out, sprawled over a bucket of your own vomit.” He paused to shudder. “It was actually quite disgusting. I carried your smelly ass to your  
room.”

“Mmm.”

Concerned, but unable to help it he questioned, “is this some sort of new monthly issue?” the light danced along his soft brown eyes.

Gwen narrowed her eyes in annoyance and fixed him with a death glare.

Dorian backed up, hands raised in supplication, “alright alright.”

===

A few weeks later

Thin wisps of smoke billowed about the fire place and the thick musky scent of burning wood had a calming effect on the elf huddled in front of its warmth.

Gwendolyn breathed-in deeply and sighed. It seemed as though everything bothered her stomach these days. Tasteless, thin crackers and room temperature water appeared to be the only things she could keep down. Everything else made its way back up in a most violent manner.

There were very few leaves left on the scattered trees around Skyhold. The claws of winter had managed to hold on with an iron-tight grip and it left the hold feeling barren and surreal. It felt far too open, too exposed, as if the sullen white sky would fall without the support of its green canopy. This winter was expected to be especially brutal with more ice than snow and frost-bite cold nights.

The little elf pulled the thick woolen cloak tighter around her neck, scooted closer to the fire, and mumbled unladylike syllables about the weather. Summer was nice, spring was best, and fall she could tolerate. The winter sucked. Everytime. There was no redeeming quality and no positive she could glean from the bitter cold. Plants died or hibernated, animals were scarce, and the sun hid behind thick sheets of gray.

A small knock interrupted her brooding.

"Gwendolyn?" A muffled voice rang out from behind the door on the other side of the room. "Are you decent?"

"Depends on who's asking," she retorted before she could bite her tongue.

A pause.

The red haired elf sighed in resignation and yelled, "I’m decent!"

Josephine timidly peaked through a crack she made in the door. "Inquisitor."

“You can come in. It’s just me.”

She nodded once before barely crossing the threshold. Once inside the room she stood awkwardly, fumbling with the lengthened sleeves of her new dress.

Surprised, Gwendolyn eyed the Ambassador; she appeared timid, as if she was afraid of something. ‘Ass-kissing’, as Iron Bull would call it, appeared to be the quickest way to make the beautiful older lady spill. It had worked well in the past and there was no reason it would fail her now.

She beamed her perfect, 1,000 watt smile and asked, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Um, yes…” Josephine took three steps past the threshold. “I must...” she stopped again. “How can I say this…” She muttered quietly to herself.

Gwen’s eyebrows nearly shot up to her hairline in surprise. Was that a blush she spotted on the other woman’s face? Timid? Flushed? What in the world?

“What’s wrong?” This was serious business; it took far more to scandalize the Ambassador than the average women. Oh no… Was Cole wandering around naked again?!

“Nothing is wrong, per se. It’s merely… A delicate situation.”

“Uh huh.” Gwen supplied. She supposed Cole refusing to wear his undergarments could be considered a ‘delicate’ situation. She snickered at the thought but quickly covered it up with the sleeve of her cloak.

“Well…” She hesitated.

One of the only issues she had with Josephine was her knack for ‘beating around the bush’. Sometimes she wished she would just come out and say it rather than skirting the issue and making it worse in the long run.

“Josephine, please. Spit it out.”

She coughed at Gwen’s tactlessness. The rest came out as a rush. “I have a friend who would like to meet The Iron Bull but he…” She seemed to hesitate but changed her mind last minute, “she is unsure how the Qunari will act.”

Her word choice and pronoun mix up was confusing but the elf disregarded it in the end. “’Would like to meet’ as in how?”

“My friend is interested in him.”

Choosing to skip pronouns all together… Gwen was certainly intrigued. “And where do I fit into this?”

“Will you help?” Skillfully ignoring the question…

She sighed and asked, “Will you not tell me unless I agree?”

Josephine’s face lit up, “Nope!”

She sighed again and in a dejected tone muttered, “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if anything seems off. If this chapter is anything less than perfect please let me know! I love you all :3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be 90% Cole, I promise haha

Gwendolyn immediately regretted her blind agreement. The tavern was loud. It reeked of desperation and body odor and all she could think of was how much she just wanted to be in bed.

Emerald green eyes stared at the other patrons over the top of a mug. ‘Of all the places for a romantic meet and greet…’ She sighed heavily. She was huddled pathetically, body nearly wrapped around the ring of porcelain, and crammed elegantly in the corner of the bar. It was warmer in here than in her room but the smell would at times be overwhelming.

An obnoxiously over-sized hand resounded painfully against her back, nearly knocking her nose-deep into the steamy beverage.

“Weird seein’ you in here.” The ridiculously large Qunari practically roared. Did he not have an inside voice?

Gwendolyn merely glared at him while malicious intent oozed from her sour expression.

“You don’t look so good.” He offered.

She bristled and deftly connected a delicate fist to his rock hard shoulder, “Why does everyone keep saying that?” 

“Should I start from the beginning?” he took a sip from the pitcher in his hand, a large brown eye stared at her from above its rim. 

Her earlier anger had deflated completely and so she merely raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘proceed’.

“For the past week you’ve only consumed crackers, water, and tea. You have no tolerance for the cold. Your complexion resembles a frog more than an elf—“ He was unceremoniously cut off by said elf.

“Shh.” She clamped the larger man’s lips between her fingers and stared in the direction of the tavern’s entrance. 

Both the Iron Bulls eyebrows shot up when he caught the subject of Gwendolyn’s attention.

===

~/Earlier that morning\~

“I look ridiculous.” Nihe whined.

“You look beautiful!” Josephine gushed and flitted around the Qunari woman like a crazed sparrow. She poked and pulled at the fabric to make it settle more elegantly around her waist. 

“I look even more like a horse…” she deadpanned.

The Ambassador ‘tsked’ and re-evaluated her masterpiece.

Said ‘masterpiece’ stood only 6 feet tall but in presence alone seemed to tower over the maids in the room.  
She was pale for a Qunari, a cloudy pearlescent, and had smooth, light brown, dimpled ovals of varying sizes that covered parts of her body. Her striking red hair matched only that of the Inquisitor in brilliance but it was her eye color that gave most people pause. They were a blue so pale they appeared nearly transparent, almost as if you were staring into the eyes of a wraith.

Nihe eyed the women that stared back at her in the mirror with disdain. She usually wore clothing that covered her birthmarks and hair and this unabashed flaunting made her nervous. The looks that followed her were very often unkind and she had developed a habit of walking with her head down. She was an anomaly, strikingly different. She hated it.

“You’ll be fine.” Josephine cooed.

Fear laced her next question. “What if he doesn’t like what he sees?” Nihe whispered.

Josephine smiled kindly and stood next to the Qunari.

“What do you see?” the caramel colored women pointed at the mirror and asked.

The red head smiled shyly and answered, “right now I see a desert flower.” She pointed to Josie.

She ‘hmphed’, ignored the other woman’s flattery, and walked behind the other woman. “Now what do you see?”

“A curse.” 

She rolled her eyes, “look closer.” She urged.

Nihe sighed and stared at the eyes of the women on the other side.

“Pain. Shame. A monster.” She whispered.

Josie sighed heavily and walked to stand next to the larger woman. “Do you know what I see?” She supplied.

She sadly shook her head.

The brunette took a deep breath before she continued. “I see a beautiful woman with porcelain white skin, crystal clear eyes, and fiery red hair; a strong woman that is weighed down by the aesthetic preconceptions of an unforgiving society; a burdened woman whose personality has been twisted to please those who claim to control her.”

Nihe’s breath caught in her throat and she stared wide eyed at the woman who stood behind her. She continued.

“Do not let others tell you how you should or should not feel or look. You are your own person. Live how you want to live. Others may see you as something more or less than what you feel you are and that is OK. Your outer shell does not define you.” 

Josephine had gotten more and more worked up as she went on with her speech until she shook and clenched and unclenched her tiny fists.

Nihe smiled, nearly moved to tears, and turned around to encompass the shorter women in a rib crushing hug. 

===

The Ambassador proved to be quite animated while she relayed a decent amount of information about this whole ordeal. She did, however, fail to mention the women involved in said excursion.

As soon as Nihe walked into the tavern an awkward hush descended on its patrons. Men closest to the female Qunari stopped with tankards halfway to their mouths and stared in open mouthed… was it awe? Or fear? 

She was absolutely stunning.

Nihe’s eye color was unsettling yet gorgeous; Gwen found it difficult to look away. It was only until a very loud and highly accented, “Holy mother of tits!” rang out through the tavern that the sound seemed to suck back into the place.

Sera was on her way down the stairs and quickly resorted to sliding down the banister to hasten her decent. Her momentum made her nearly crash into the wall but she hastily rebounded and scurried to the large Qunari woman. Gwen couldn’t help but snort at the sight of the mischievous elf as she hopped from foot to foot like a kid on their birthday; Nihe’s mouth open and closed like a fish out of water as she was tugged ungracefully to the bar.

“You must meet the Inquisi-butt, come on!” Sera trilled.

Nihe was dumped unceremoniously next to Gwen and a mug of yellow ale shoved in her grasp. Sera jumped on the seat next to her and effectively trapped the lady Qunari between the two elves. She bounced happily and kicked her legs against the side of the bar. 

“Sera…” Gwen raised an eyebrow in question.

Said elf winked, then giggled madly and flew off the stool and ran in the direction of the war room. 

Gwen sighed heavily but plastered a smile on her face and beamed it directly at Nihe who in turn stared at the Iron Bull from over the elf’s head.

“Hello, The Iron Bull.” Nihe timidly greeted.

“Hey.” Was his intelligent reply.

‘Why am I here again?’ Gwen pondered.

“Well, I think the fireplace in my room is calling my name, I’ll take my leave now. You two play nicely.” Gwen waved and hopped off the bar stool. On her way out the door she looked back to see that Nihe had scooted over and sat leaning toward the Bull.

===

“That was nice of you,” a familiar voice rang out next to the tavern door.

Gwen jumped and spun around to face the handsomely smug little smile of her favorite rogue. “You scared me!”

“I know.” He replied. “I’m sorry.” 'Was he really?' “I thought you would be able to sense me.” He came closer and wrapped the small elf in a hug.

Gwen shivered when she felt his nose make a trail from her collarbone to behind her ear. Her breath came fast when he ended with a small nip at the top of her ear. 

“I have missed you.” He whispered.

She shivered and wondered whether or not it was from the cold. 

“I missed you too.” She sighed dreamily and snuggled closer to his warmth. “Let’s go somewhere tomorrow…” she pondered out loud, “but somewhere warm. Please.”

She heard and felt the soft chuckle that reverberated through his tall frame. “I like the sound of that.” he kissed her sweetly on the nose and led her in the direction to their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is our crazy Sera up to? Brownie points with Josephine, perhaps? Stealing the Inquisi-butts thunder ;P
> 
> Inspiration for Nihe was taken from Winnie Harlow. She is a b-e-a-u-tiful model. 
> 
> When I read through it again it felt a little rushed, like I could have added a little more fluff/characterization. Did anyone feel like that or was it just me?


End file.
